A portion of Northern Travance is now taken by the forces of New Gaaldron. This time there is no blame to go around—no one at fault—for New Gaaldron had convincingly lied about their involvement in the war; worse yet, their despicably underhanded and morally reprehensible tactics were enough to further their causes. They sent convincingly small armies to other parts of the North with the knowledge that they would be wiped out, sacrificed as a distraction; the heroes of Travance had no choice but to deal with them. As the small battalions were slain by all of Travances’ might, New Gaaldron’s main army lay hidden and fell upon their targets like a hammer upon an anvil. While the damage is still being surveyed, Pendarvin and Kaladonia are quickly reorganizing and refocusing their militias into a single force, facing the threat with unrelenting determination. However, the new battle map looks grim. Many are starting to suspect that New Gaaldron must have been planning for this ever since the Demon Wars. If they’re going to get through this, if they’re going to overcome such insurmountable odds, Travance will need some strong luck, or perhaps some new allies.

* * * * *

Grand General Jagger’wra Goretusk of the 3rd Legion paced back and forth in the anti-chambers, every breath heavy with rage, his axe itching for a skull to split. High Priest Anaxanar entered the room with his elite guard and as he sat upon his throne, General Gortusk spat bile and blood at his feet. “I have bled with my soldiers in battle for my whole life and you sacrificed hundreds of them as pawns! They had loyalty, they had faith, they had family, they had HONOR!” The general could not stem his rage, and he hurled his legendary axe, Azrack, at the High Priest.

Not a soul in the room foresaw such a bold move, and if not for the swift actions of one of the elite guard, the high priest would have surely been split in two. Instead, a guard lay hemorrhaging on the ground; the axe had sheared through him as though he were paper. The rest of the elite guard swiftly took rank, forming a barrier around the high priest, as Gortusk turned and fled from the chambers, drawing crude, twin daggers as his feet pounded against the ground. His heavy footfalls plowed through the streets of Algraadax, as he turned into the market square, his eyes searching the crowd. As his eye lit up with recognition, General Gortusk purposefully crashed into his First Lieutenant, Dargomoar; grabbing him roughly by the collar, the general informed him as to what had happened and ordered Lieutenant Dargomoar to gather the rest of the third legion—to get them out of the city with haste. The General’s final words rang out clearly: I will meet you in the wilds.

As the words left his lips, alarms had sounded and guards scattered across the city. Gortusk’s resolve was firm: he would not leave the city until every one of his soldiers were safe from the retribution that was clear to follow. It was an impossible task. Many of the third legion managed to escape to the wilds, though some were caught and either killed or incarcerated. In an attempt to free one of them, Gortusk himself was overwhelmed by Algraadax’s forces, wounded, and thrown into the Gulags, where he currently languishes, awaiting his fate.

* * * * *

"So, the wolf still has teeth " thought Jurgur'mosh upon receiving the news of the assassination attempted on the high priest. He had heard rumors of a great change brewing in the goblinoid empire, but not to this extent. Perhaps it is the time of the old Orc ways to prevail over the tight fist of the hobgoblins and their Exanian way of life........"what life is that for an Orc" he growled through his old broken tusks.

Now was the time to strike at the center of the imperial heart, if leaders such as Jagger'wra were standing up in such a public defiance then others are surely ready to follow. Jurgur'mosh had spent enough years among the heroes of Travance to know that they would see this as an opportunity to be seized. Jugur’mosh sends word of these events back to Travance and reaches out to his tribal contacts in the wild in order to get a simple message to Dargomoar or any member of this exiled legion;  “Go to Travance...”



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